


Sex Arcade: Triss Merigold

by SluttyHaruka



Series: Sex Arcade Canon [9]
Category: Bayonetta (Video Games), Sex Arcade - Fandom, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Blowbang, Bondage, Bukkake, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Maledom, Missionary Position, Nipple Piercings, Non-Consensual Bondage, Riding, Tongue Piercings, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttyHaruka/pseuds/SluttyHaruka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt's side-ho becomes a main event and makes some friends from other franchises. Unlike most entries in this series, Triss is not that bothered by her circumstances. There may be several chapters of this story.</p><p>Written for Sabu's pic for March 19th.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Concupiscent Courtesan 044

001: Subject Data

Booth Number: 044  
Subject: Triss Merigold  
Occupation: Sorceress  
Charge Per Hour: $300.00  
Acquisition date: 28/2/16  
Acquisition level: Hard

Physical Characteristics:  
Sex: Female  
Height: 5’6”  
Weight: 134 pounds  
Bodytype: Slender  
Hair: Red, wavy  
Eyes: Green  
Age: 32  
Blood Type: A

Clientele:  
Male: 57%  
Female: 43%

 

002: Booth 044, ??/?/??

Being a Sorceress, one must live with cumbersome, unavoidable baggage, especially as a member of the Lodge. While there is no particular moral or ethical code to tie such a woman down, she is expected to act in the interest of the group, whatever their aims may be. More importantly, though, she is subject to the whims of the populace. Sure, Sorceresses accepted into the fold possess otherworldly beauty and acquire positions of power beside their king, but that is the rub. They occupy positions _beside_ their respective kings, both placing a ceiling on their aspirations and attracting the attention of the rest of his subjects, commoners and nobles alike. And, despite their lust in some cases, they uniformly loathe and distrust her, regardless of her actual intentions.

It is an untenable situation that incites scheming and, thus, further conflict. The population cannot tolerate the existence of, and deference to, these women, and, yet, to not employ one of them can only lead to worse issues - so, baggage. 

While Triss Merigold was not a particularly nefarious schemer in her tenure like some of her peers, she weathered just as much scrutiny and hostility as any other. And at the time, it just seemed to be the way of things. She, too, desired respect, but was not willing to force the change, choosing instead to just live her life and do her work. She was not actively seeking a way out - at least, not until Foltest’s assassination.

When they came for her, she was in a place of relative happiness, if plagued by lingering heartache. She defended herself, but they had equipment and weapons that seemed to be beyond her understanding, weapons designed to incapacitate rather than kill. She still clearly remembered feeling her consciousness fade as her knees hit the soil and the big woman picked her up and flung her over her shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was in a miniature chamber with a cot, a bowl and some strange screen that spoke to her. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the person encased in it wasn't really talking with her, that she was viewing a recording of some sort.

She marveled at this piece of technology and wondered what other innovations these strange people had made. Of course, she understood what the person was telling her. She was a whore now and she would spend eight hours a day in her ‘booth’, ‘visited’ by ‘clients’ who knew who she was under the supervision of ‘hostesses.’ She would not know them, but but they would be a diverse assortment of ‘fans’ who wanted to plough her and she did not have a say in the matter. On the other hand, she wouldn't have to worry about pregnancy, disease or ruffians as the ‘sa’ would not allow any of the three.

She knew she should have been terrified, but she just felt numb. Here she was, sat on this finely set bed, listening to this woman with a peculiar hair color and a warm demeanor tell her that her life was over. She was a slave now and would be until they released her back to her world, which would not be anytime soon. She understood it, but couldn't process it.

The next few hours she spent on her back, restrained and spread open for her ‘clients’ who took her until she was raw and then the ‘hostess’ would walk over, rub some ointment on her musky flesh and the process would continue. After several repetitions, she grew to yearn for the reapplication of the salve to experience the sensation of that chilly burning spread throughout her groin. After several days, she learned about the woman.

Her name was Layla and she had been working at the ‘sex arcade’ for a couple months. Her natural hair color was brown, but she painstakingly stylized it so that it was shorn on the right side of her head and dyed it electric blue on a regular basis. She performed most actions with her left hand. Her lower lip, tongue, nose, ears, nipples, and bellybutton were all pierced, with her left ear containing 7 studs. Her ‘tramp stamp’ read _jesus was here_ and she’d had it done it to inform of her partners of her own baggage without having to verbally tell them, a strategy that apparently backfired as everyone who saw it thought it was a crass joke.

Sometime during the second week, she found out that Layla had been a boy when she was a child. It took a while for that to sink in. Their coital recreation during slow business hours, however, provided Triss with a deep, warm point of reference. 

When a month had passed, Layla had to be transferred to another booth. She didn't have a say as it was mandated by her employers. The Sorceress spent quite some time struggling to cope with the loss before it ever occurred to her to question why. She was still a slave, violated by men and women alike. She barely knew that person anyway.

Her relationship with the next Hostess was completely different. She was callous and let the rougher Clients do as they wished until they drew blood. After a couple weeks, the green haired woman from the video showed up at her booth and the next day the Hostess was replaced by someone nicer, yet still impersonable. 

Three or four months is not very long in the time span of a person, but they can change so much within it. The more time drug on, the less numb Triss became. Ambivalence crumbled and from its ruins rose an emotion that shocked her - lust. 

She had acquired regulars, some of whom elaborated who she was to the crowds of people who sought her out. Though the revelation that she was a fictional character (from their perspective) was a tough pill to swallow, it only served to draw out the vixen in her. Her cunt and anus still burned during ‘shifts’, but it was easy to reconcile the pain with the pleasure. She loved the hair pulling and choking, even when they happened to her. But, oh, did she have some submissive johns and janes.

And they came from all walks of life. One, in particular, was a businessman in charge of a massively successful company - a billionaire. He weeped like a babe when she whipped his bare bottom and when she rode him like a steed. His hot gifts were much bigger than most men’s as well, usually filling her up completely during the first climax, let alone the sixth and seventh. When she finished with him, streaks of white ran down their legs and between his rotund belly and her bloated belly was a sticky puddle of fluids, some of which she fed to him while the attending Hostess giggled and snapped photographs.

On the other side of the spectrum was a woman who worked in the steel industry. Her muscles were hard as iron and, in many places, as thick as the Sorceress’ head, but she very much desired to receive rather than to give. Her sessions with this woman were the most liberating as she usually had only a collar chained to a poll in the center of the room restraining her. She used this increased range of movement to her advantage, taking the woman in positions that rolled her into a useless ball of holes to be filled… or licked.

Over time, Triss learned just how much she enjoyed lapping at another woman’s cunt, controlling her pleasure in a way that wasn't possible with penetration. Hot, pulsating dicks could touch some sweet spots, but an invasive, rolling tongue just had an effect that couldn't be duplicated. Her favorite part was, when she worked her receiver into a continuous string of orgasms, how they would would breathlessly scream and turn violet in the face, their tears and drool streaking their cheeks and their eyes rolling back in their head. Women could be so animated if one managed to cut through their pretense of modesty.

There was one in particular who never failed to be dramatic in her every action. Triss was unsure who she had to thank for the decision, but whoever paired the redhead Sorceress with the raven haired witch was a brilliant woman. As ridiculous, lazy as it may have sounded initially, she felt her heart leap in her chest when the high-heeled spell caster was locked into place beside her. Latex hugged the brunette’s form, packing her buxom curves in tight and so, as a result, constantly drawing the redhead’s gaze down to them.

Bayonetta clearly wasn't as… amenable to their circumstances as Triss was, her face twisted into a furious frown, but as she was eyed by her booth companion, her own attention slowly drifted towards her. The brunette wasn't as instantly smitten as her peer, but her features did soften as they looked at each other, filled as they were with cocks. Triss didn't know if Bayonetta initially felt that sense of kindred spirit and couldn't ask for quite some time, given that both their mouths were stuffed with round gags. 

The Clients, however, certainly noticed something was up and, in contrast to most others the woman saw daily, they encouraged it, having the Hostesses reposition the women so they could explore each others’ sexes while the men resumed ploughing them. As crude as this was, the magic wielders seized the opportunity to perform their carnal skills on someone who truly understood how the other felt, someone they could empathize with. Triss returned to her room that night, a day full of sweet orgasms fresh in her mind, tickling her sensitive folds.

She began playing her new friend’s games after that first event, fingering herself for hours as she watched the brunette strip herself to attack her enemies with simple button inputs. Triss really began to see the appeal storytelling had in this world. It didn't do anything to soothe the aches she felt at the start of her shifts, but it didn't matter. A few moments of discomfort every now and then was a fair trade for hours of back arching, mind melting pleasure. 

As months became years, her perception of time skewed so entirely, it transformed her experiences into one big multi-gendered orgy, Laylas and Bayonettas and businessmen alike all working her and getting worked by her, drowning out the worries and danger of her past. The memory of her abduction was simply a marking point for the turn in her life. Forgotten was the baggage that weighed her and her peers in the Lodge down and, preferably, it would stay forgotten.


	2. Concupiscent Courtesan 044 - Addendum

003: Booth 044, Level Two, 22/4/16

It had been an… adjustment. After Hostess Amber had been caught shirking the responsibilities of her role (allowing Triss to be subjected to brutal treatment), she faced punitive measures, the likes of which the Sorceress was not afforded the pleasure of seeing. Hell, she still had not been told whether, through official channels or rumor, it was an actual punishment or if she had simply been reassigned. Given that it was common knowledge on Level Two that she’d had a Manager's husband in her bed behind the woman’s back, Triss liked to think the bitch provoked a particularly vindictive cuck. The thought of that facile blonde suffering was comforting.

It sure had been an adjustment. She had grown accustomed to feeling apathetic towards her new circumstances; she thought she was going to remain that way until she finally lost the will to live. Not yet two months on, that was no longer the case. She was finding in joy in quite a few things. Chief of which were the specials.

The Sex Arcade had ‘events’ often enough to render the word meaningless, but the specials stood out to her, despite their even more common frequency, because they weren't specifically highlighted and she wasn't certain they were all the brain children of the vaguely defined ‘staff’. At least some had to have started as germs in the minds of her Clients. And, while they generally weren't ingenious ideas, they gave her a damn chance to move around. Having her lurch and recoil as her throat was gouged by a black man with a cock as thick as her forearm may not have been a sensual experience, but it broke the monotony.

Though she constantly tasted metal, because, of course, they strapped a ring gag into her mouth, lest she teeth on sensitive flesh, she relished what being on her knees before several insistent cocks brought out in her. The crotch of her trousers dampened as their collective masculine musk burned her nostrils, being an up close and personal virile smog as opposed to the usual distant odor that bled together with all the other pheromones in the Arcade. She loved the tingling in her chill licked breasts, having been liberated from their confines with the loosening of the laces of her doublet and splattered with her excess saliva. She loved the way they molested her, drawing out her aggressive side, both resisting their attempts to control her and becoming a willing participant, slobbering them with her nigh useless tongue and bathing their lengths in her hot breath.

It made her feel like a whore, like a _real_ whore and not just some pathetic slave. Prior to this… change, she had been no virgin, but also did not have the luxury or desire to rut this often. Like her contemporaries, she had been quite discerning in her selection of her partners, primarily choosing those who would bring passion to her bed (Geralt) without the trappings of courtship (Geralt), those who wouldn’t necessarily mind not being exclusive (Geralt).

While the White Wolf was a silent, satisfactory lover, the more these repellent, bombastic men, especially this one particular group, visited her to skull fuck her senseless, the more it drove her mad. On one particular evening, this one particular group arrived for their ninth or tenth visit (but, really, who’s counting?), this time with an unfamiliar face. It did not take long for them to introduce him as the ‘birthday boy’. She didn’t require further elaboration, but the Mr. Big Black Dick saw fit to remind her anyway of what would make a good present for this new guy.

With their numbers increased to five, she knew she was facing even more oral abuse than usual and, sure enough, before he finished his explanation, Mr. Big Black Dick inserted his meat stick into her. She was aware he had a name; he had probably shared it at some point. She didn’t care to learn it, though. He was just another dick to violate her, provoking her slowly blossoming randy side to come to the surface. How she hated his fucking guts for grabbing her red locks and soft chin, thrusting into her face until his disgusting pubes brushed her nostrils, and how she fucking loved every second of it. Her cunt had its first major spasm that day when he squeezed his ugly scrotum and forced it into her mouth. She gagged on his wretched sack while her cream drenched the layer of fabric hugging her engorged lips.

He violently bobbed her head on his cock, grunting in his vile, manly way as she gurgled and retched. Her vision blurred, tears flowing as freely as the saliva dripping onto her bosom. Her wrists strained against the metal bindings locked to a tile in the floor, trying in vain to break free so she could hex these brigands. Would she have actually harmed them, killed them? She didn’t know, but it helped her get off so much quicker when she imagined taking her vengeance. Eyes rolling back in her head, she climaxed again before she felt his pulse spike inside her.

With a feral groan, he retreated from her, settling beside her to stroke himself against her cheek while Mr. Big Latin Dick took his place. Again, she didn’t care; they were all just meat to her - hard, succulent meat that brought her down to their level. Each one of them took their turn with her, using her whore face as their living toy until they were about to erupt, then moving out of the way so the next Mr. Big Dick could have his turn - all, except birthday boy. He lingered behind her, letting his erection strain against his pants. He hovered until they had their fill and Mr. Big Black Dick returned to her bared lips.

His second entry was slow and deep, keeping her quite still as birthday boy fished out his flesh stick. She didn’t know why it fascinated these guys so much. There wasn’t anything rational or particularly functional about it; a fetish is as fetish does. She just knew they all enjoyed it, especially her. While Mr. Big Black Dick pumped in her nice and smooth, this new ‘birthday boy’ draped his veiny meat across her hair and rubbed glans on her forehead, squeezing out rivers of pre cum that cascaded down the bridge of her nose. Standing facials were a dime a dozen at the Arcade, but these guys liked to concentrate on certain angles for specific erotic effect.

It impressed methodology on carnal experiences, thus thoroughly killing any emotional elements. And nothing could be more gratifying. Backing out of her hungry maw once more, Mr. Big Black Dick joined all the other Big Dicks in furiously jerking their cocks, aiming for her forcibly gaped mouth, all while ‘birthday boy’ worked himself to a moaning orgasm, dropping loads of his thick cum onto her brow that then slid their way across her cheeks. She wanted to close her fluttering eyes to avoid getting his fluids in them, but that wouldn’t have been adventurous. Instead, she squinted towards the four in front of her, watching as they blasted her waiting hole with their massive offerings.

Most of their shots missed, spraying her neck or landing in rivulets across her slutty tits, but enough landed in the desired zone to gag her, making what little makeup she had left run, turning her visage into a filthy exhibition of debauchery. And it was heavy on her skin, the Big Dicks having more to show her than just girth. As the rancid stench melted away her brain, provoking another flood of fem cum in her trousers, she smirked to herself. Her new life could be so fulfilling sometimes.


End file.
